


Lovesick

by agent_starbuck



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Rough Kissing, Sexual Tension, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck
Summary: 45. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.Tumblr prompt. Mulder is miserable without Scully when she goes away for a conference and decides to woo her with dinner when she returns. Things don't go as planned.





	Lovesick

 The shrill tone of the line ringing in his ear cuts through the pounding backbeat of his heart like glass. As soon as he presses that final number on the dial pad, he swears his heart stops cold in his chest– the deafening roar pulsating against his eardrums the only unmistakable proof that it hasn’t– and he waits anxiously for Scully’s voice on the other end, coiling, then uncoiling, the phone cord around his clammy fingers.

 

He’s absolutely miserable without her. A fact that shouldn’t surprise him much as it maybe, probably should. She hasn’t even been gone a week. Four days, three hours, and fifty-two minutes to be exact, but who’s counting?

 

She’s been away at some forensic medical conference in Texas, leaving him to fend for himself, and honestly it wouldn’t bother him so much, it really wouldn’t, except they had just recently traversed that platonic line into intimate territory, and he’s quickly discovering just how pathetic life is without her.

 

What’s the term? Lovesick? If Scully were here, she’d scoff at the mere notion.

 

 _“That’s not a legitimate medical condition, Mulder,”_  she’d say.

 

And she’d be right.

 

Except it  _feels_  real. The bags under his eyes and the contradictory heavy emptiness he feels in the pit of his stomach can attest to that. He’s sure he’s lost a few pounds. Food just doesn’t hold the same appeal. It wanes in comparison to the savory, sweet taste of Scully’s lips. Every inch of her body is a delicacy that he wants to indulge in again and again, for the rest of eternity. She’s the only sustenance he needs.

 

It’s not even just the taste of her. It’s the exquisite sound of her low, soft whimpers. The frantic flutter of her pulse mirrored on his lips against the ivory satin of her neck. The feel of her nimble, eager hands exploring every inch of him while he tortures her with the slow, unhurried rhythm of his hips.

 

The mind-blowing fact that he’s allowed to experience these things with her, now, is something he’s rarely not thinking about these days. It’s enough to make even the most sane man go crazy with the knowledge of it, and Mulder conceded ownership of his sanity long ago.

 

The familiar tone of Scully’s voice through the receiver pulls him back to reality.

 

“Mulder? Hello? You there?”

 

“Scully!” he clears the cobwebs from his throat. “Hey, yeah… sorry! How, uh, how are you doing?”

 

“I’m good, Mulder. I just now got back to my room, and I’m trying to find my address book so I can add a few new contacts to it.” Her voice trails off as he hears her rummaging through what is probably her suitcase before a victorious “Aha!” is muttered on the other end.

 

“Found it! Anyway, we had another training workshop and a presentation on entomotoxicology, a relatively new area of forensics that utilizes insects and arthropods to determine whether toxins were present in a victim’s body at the time of death. It’s fascinating stuff, really.”

 

He chuckles at the unrestrained excitement in her tone, the effervescent quality of her voice making him smile like an absolute idiot into the phone. She’s adorable when she’s like this.

 

“That’s really interesting, Scully. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

 

A pregnant pause– then “Yeah, I mean, it hasn’t been terrible.”

 

“It’s good to finally hear your voice.” The words tumble from his lips in a rush as though they’d been collecting at the back of his throat since the moment she picked up the phone, struggling not to spill out. “I miss you,” he adds as a flourish. He can’t help himself.

 

He can hear the smile in her voice when she replies with a warm “Me too.”

 

“I was thinking, Scully–”

 

“You shouldn’t do too much of that while I’m away. It’s hard telling what kind of trouble it could get you into,” she teases.

 

“Heh, very funny. Anyway, I think we should go to dinner when you get back tomorrow.”

 

“Dinner? As in a date, Mulder?” He tries not to wince at the clear evidence of disbelief in her tone. Surely she doesn’t think him so awkwardly bad at this whole relationship thing that asking her on a date would seem out of character for him.

 

“Yes, precisely a date. You in a dress. Me in a suit. Candlelight. Fancy music. Wine. All of it.” He wants to woo the fucking hell out of Dana Scully.

 

She huffs a breathy laugh into the phone.

 

“Okay, sure, why not? I’d love to. So, where are you taking me?”

 

“Well,  _that_ … that you’ll just have to wait and see.”

•••••

The reservations are made. Some little place called  _Del Maniano’s_ that is most definitely above his price range and most definitely took some coercion on his part to get the manager to agree to reservations under such short notice. The badge helped.

 

He stands outside her apartment, 7:30 on the dot, and he’s so wired, the electricity crackling within him could split atoms. He just hopes that he doesn’t spontaneously combust before he gathers the courage to knock on her door.

 

His knuckles beat a familiar pattern into the solid wood, the sound drowned out by the low, vacillating hum of energy coursing through the blood in his ears, and he feels suddenly lightheaded.

 

“Come in!” Her muffled voice echoes from inside, and he reaches out to test the door knob, twisting it carefully and letting out a shuddering breath as he crosses into her apartment.

 

His brain short-circuits at the sight of her.

 

She’s toddling around on one foot, the other hooked underneath her as she reaches down to frantically secure the strap to her heel, hand braced against her sofa. Her back is turned to him, and he watches the tantalizing dance of her muscles through the very,  _very_  low-cut opening in her dress as she struggles for balance. It’s so low-cut, in fact that, when he searches for the telltale signs of a bra strap, he’s only met with the sight of more bare skin instead, and his mouth goes instantly dry.

 

_Fucking Hell._

 

She turns to face him, right eyebrow quirked in amusement as a grin tugs at the corner of her lips, and he realizes he may or may not have just said that aloud.

 

“Sorry, Scully,” he recovers as he glances at her guiltily. “I just… God, you look amazing.”

 

“Apparently.” She smiles and sashays her way over to him, the pendulum swing of her hips a little more confident than usual, he notices, and she leans in to brush a fleeting kiss against the corner of his mouth.

 

“You managed three swear words in the span of sixty seconds. I must look pretty amazing.” Her fingers tease the fabric of his tie. “You look pretty amazing yourself.”

 

“Where have you been hiding this little number?” he growls as he reaches out to slide a finger underneath the silky, black strap of her dress. Sparks dance between them at the contact. He swears she’s stopped breathing. Maybe he has, too.

 

“I bought it a few years ago,” she blushes, averting her eyes, “I guess, I’ve, um, not had many chances to wear it. One, to be exact. Tonight.”

 

Bending down, he captures her lips in a soft kiss because, frankly, he can’t bear  _not_  to be kissing her, at this point.

 

“Scully,” he sighs, the taste of her cherry-red lips better than any award-winning Cabernet, and he’s already drunk off the taste of her. They haven’t even had wine. “God, I missed you so much,” he breathes against her lips. “So goddamn much,” he emphasizes because he  _needs_  her to know. His hands seek refuge in the cocoon of soft hairs at the base of her neck, holding her to him desperately. He never wants to let her go.

 

“I’ve missed you, too, Mulder,” she whispers in between saliva-slicked, open-mouthed kisses. Her arms slink up and around his shoulders, her body pressed flush against his– soft, meandering curves against hard, chiseled ones– and his cock throbs painfully in his slacks. His tongue slips hotly into her mouth, and she moans her approval, reciprocating with equal fervor.

 

“Mulder,” she breathes between needy kisses. “Mulder, we’re gonna be late for dinner.” He swallows her words as he continues to devour her hungrily. Who needs dinner when dessert is so much more satisfying?

 

“Then we’re gonna have to be late, Scully,” he murmurs against the succulent skin underneath her jaw. “Because I can’t stop kissing you.” She gasps when he sucks a little too hard on that spot below her ear that he knows drives her crazy.

 

“Oh, God,” she whimpers, and his mouth makes the slow journey back to the soft, swollen flesh of her lips for another frenzied kiss. “Sofa. Now,” she demands huskily.

 

They’re moving now, clinging wildly to each other, as they wander aimlessly in the direction of the sofa, their mouths never breaking contact. She’s pulling him, hands grasping fistfuls of fabric, and he’s pushing. He nearly trips over a decorative, woven basket on the floor, and she steadies a hand against his chest.

 

“Careful,” she mumbles, then yelps as her hip bone knocks against the edge of her sofa table.

 

“Geez, Scully, you okay?” She hisses as he brushes a thumb over the spot on her hip.

 

“I’m okay,” she breathes, tugging at his tie as they make their way around the table. She sucks at his bottom lip, making him lose concentration, and his feet catch on the corner of the floor rug, propelling him forward and making him grapple with the floor lamp in an attempt to stay upright. It doesn’t work. The lamp crashes to the floor with a bang, and they end up falling across the back of the sofa in a messy tangle of limbs.

 

“Well, we made it to the sofa,” he says breathlessly.

 

“I shudder to think what would’ve come of us had we tried to venture into my bedroom, instead.”

 

“It’s a good thing we haven’t had dinner yet. If you think I’m graceful now, you should see me after a few glasses of wine.”

 

“Oh, I plan on it, Mulder,” she remarks as she leans in for another kiss, the night still young and full of promise.


End file.
